


Seeking Warmth

by Listentothelittlebird



Series: Code Bat [17]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: (in a way), Alternate Universe, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian and Tim having an actual brotherly relationship, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Tim Drake is a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listentothelittlebird/pseuds/Listentothelittlebird
Summary: Kon-El does not trust Canvas. Tim convinces him to give the kid a chance.(Featuring a short banter between the bat-siblings, and Damian and Tim fluff)
Relationships: Damian Wayne & Tim Drake, Jon Lane Kent & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: Code Bat [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964452
Comments: 30
Kudos: 568





	Seeking Warmth

“ _Feliz Navidad,_ ” Jason sang.

“Stop,” Damian snapped preemptively. It was of no effect.

“ _Feliz Navidad,_ ” Steph continued, and then they stared to sing together, and only stopped when a thump from Jason’s end of the comm suggested he had started fighting someone.

“It’s not Christmas, yet,” Tim pointed out in amusement. 

“It’s close enough,” Steph chirped, “RH, I think we started a singalong in the Narrows.”

“Aw, hell yeah.”

Cass giggled over the comms. 

“Snowball fight, anyone?” Dick piped up, followed by a squawk from Damian, “Batman! You have a reputation to uphold!”

“But it’s Christmas!” Dick retorted in a voice very unlike Batman, and that was definitely the distinct whistling of snowballs flinging to and fro.

“It’s not Christmas, genius. You guys are going to end up sick like B,” Oracle chided, “Robbery five streets down. Go handle that instead of tossing snowballs at each other.”

“Hey Double R, wanna know how to weaponise a snowball?”

“Let me guess, glass shards and pebbles?”

There was a huff. “You’re no fun,” Jason whined childishly, “You’re supposed to go, ‘sure, RH, how do you weaponise a snowball?’, and I’m supposed to show you how to do it.”

“Was that sequence supposed to end with me getting hit by said snowball?”

“Maybe.”

The huff was from Tim’s end, this time.

“Ow!” Jason yelped, followed by, “Double B! What was that for?”

“Naughty,” Cass declared, “No throwing glass shards at little brothers.”

“It was gonna be in a snowball! He’s wearing protective armour! It would’ve been harmless!”

“It’s the principle of the matter, RH.”

“Ah- sorry, Agent A.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the one you should be apologising to.”

“Sorry, Double R.”

“Apology accepted. Want to do a drug bust?”

“Sure, why not?”

~

Tim was hanging out with Kon in Titans tower. Or, more accurately, he was watching Kon pace around the room from the corner of his eye, while he tried to focus on the work on his laptop.

He was typing up a report for WE. Most of his teammates were often too distracted to care about what he was doing, so he hardly had any problems doing the work he needed to do. 

“Why aren’t they back yet?” Kon mumbled, turning to eye the clock at the other side of the room. Tim huffed amusedly. “Relax, Kon. It’s only ten minutes past patrol time. They could’ve just gone for a hot chocolate, or something.”

Outside, the city was a cluster of bright lights in a quickly-darkening night sky. Damian had already snuck out of the tower several times to admire the glow of the city. It was vibrant in a way that Gotham never was, something that Tim himself had come to appreciate as a Titan.

Currently, Damian - Canvas - and Jon were out on a patrol around the city, something that Jon had bargained for as part of their training. Damian had started to stay over at the tower on alternate weekends along with Jon, with Tim and Kon acting as their primary trainers. 

“Ten more minutes,” Kon declared sharply, “Then I’m going to look for them.”

Tim barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. He had never realised how overprotective his friend could be over his younger brother. No wonder Jon was so pissy during their first encounter - his family pampered him like a glass doll in bubble wrap. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Kon whirled on Tim, now, “I know you said that David’s a good guy, and I trust you, I do - but you also told me that he’s an _Al Ghul_. Aren’t you at least a little concerned?”

Tim guessed that little tidbit did not help his friend’s protectiveness. He closed his laptop and met his friend’s eye through his sunglasses.

“I know people who have escaped from the League of Assassins,” Tim started slowly, “And the runaways have a network of their own. News travels down the grapevine to my direct contacts, and they tell me.”

He breathed deeply, steeling himself. Distancing himself from what he was about to share. He was just glad that he had already discussed this with Damian, had been granted permission to tell his story.

“When David was ten,” Tim explained, “He was sent to live with his birth father. Nobody knows who the father is, but he did not seem to have direct connections with the League. He lived with him for a while, and then it was a back and forth between living with his father and living with his mother, until for some reason, he did not return to his mother’s side.”

“According to what my contacts could tell me, David had chosen to live with his father. He basically denounced his Al Ghul heritage, and rejected his position as heir. What he did is effectively high-profile treason in the League.”

Kon was silent, staring out of the tower’s one-way viewing glass, so Tim continued.

“Talia Al Ghul is David’s mother. She was not happy. Somehow, somewhere, people started hearing about a clone of the heir - a clone that was rapidly aged to adulthood, and rapidly trained to be a deadly weapon.”

Tim waited until Kon turned around, and said slowly and carefully, “There are currently no heirs to the Al Ghuls. The clone was sent to kill the original, and he succeeded. The clone then lost in a fight of unknown circumstances, and was killed, too. That’s official news.”

“Unofficially?” Kon prompted, one eyebrow raised. “Unofficially,” Tim reported, “The first mentions of a David Fletcher appeared several months - close to a year - after the deaths. David doesn’t know if his clone is alive, but he says there is always the possibility.”

Kon frowned, processing the information. “David Fletcher,” he spoke the name carefully, testing its weight on his tongue, “What’s his track record?”

Tim smiled at that. Kon had his arms crossed, but his stance was open, ready to listen to David Fletcher’s story, and not an Al Ghul’s upbringing.

“David Fletcher appears scarcely,” Tim shrugged, “He pops up in one town, and then next thing you know, he’s on the other side of the country. The short time gaps in between the few mentions of him suggest that he has access to some form of fast travel, that can take him through a variety of terrains.”

“He’s sometimes seen with two other people: a girl and a boy. The boy is a mystery, but the girl is another defected assassin: Maya Ducard.”

Kon huffed at that. “And what are they doing, whenever they’re seen?” Kon asked.

Tim grinned, and flipped open his laptop. He typed quickly, pulling up a grainy video from a small town.

The white robe was easy to locate, even without the added colour splotches. He was fighting off a moving golem, with another small figure fighting alongside him. 

The golem aimed for a group of bystanders, and Canvas threw himself at the being, stabbing his blades into its arms and forcing it to stagger backwards.

Kon squeaked out a noise of surprise. “Yeesh,” Kon gaped, “How does the kid find trouble like that?”

“Dunno,” Tim chuckled, “But he does handle himself well. You don’t have to worry about the guy, Kon. I’m more worried about your brother overestimating Canvas’ human capabilities.”

Kon frowned, a retort on his lips, when his head snapped upwards, towards the ceiling. “They’re back,” Kon stated distractedly, before flying out of the room. Tim sighed and ran after him.

Canvas and Superboy Junior - Canvas had coined it, because of his irritation that both Jon and Kon’s superhero names were the same - had touched down on the rooftop of Titans tower. 

“You’re both late!” Kon exclaimed, and Tim wanted to laugh - he sounded like Dick - as he surged forward.

“And why the heck are you both soaked?”

It was hard to make out in the dim lighting, but the squish of Jon’s shoes was obvious enough. Jon smiled sheepishly, “Well, we were fighting some guys who were doing some weapons smuggling operation thing near the bay, and then one of them managed to throw David into the water right at the end, and then I was kind of distracted because suddenly David’s heartbeat sounded really weird since it was underwater, and then-“

“And then he, too, was thrown off the edge of the port,” David sighed, and his despair was audible even through his mask, “And we lost the criminal who threw us in. The rest were fortunately still present when we resurfaced, and we were able to turn them over to the authorities before leaving.”

“So you’ve been dripping wet for at least the last half hour,” Kon concluded, and he was definitely frowning, “Jon, you know better than that. It’s cold out, you’ll get sick.”

“I am part Kryptonian,” Jon huffed, and then sneezed. “The other part is human,” Kon reminded him, and placed a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder, “C’mon, let’s get you in the shower.”

Tim waited until the two Supers had disappeared into the building before turning to his own brother. Damian was standing stiffly, the kind of way he stood when he was trying not to shiver. Living in a desert for most of his childhood had him very unaccustomed to colder climates. Not even their bat-technology body armour could keep the cold from bothering him.

“Do you have anything to change into?” Tim asked, because he was unsure of whether Damian had moved any clothing into his room. Tim knew it would be a while before the boy was comfortable enough to walk around the tower in civilian clothes. 

“I have another uniform,” Damian admitted, “But that’s all.”

Tim hummed, and flicked his hand in a way that meant follow me. Damian fell easily into step behind Tim.

Tim’s room in the tower was the only one that was sound-proofed. It had taken some convincing in the tower’s development, but even Cyborg had some respect for Tim’s abilities - and besides, super-hearing meant that the Supers could still hear into the room, just muffled.

It was just enough to let them hear their heartbeats, and the murmur of voices, but enough that the words spoken were indiscernible.

The moment Tim closed the door behind Damian, he pointed towards his bathroom, “Go take a shower, Damian. I’ll find you something to wear.”

It was a clear switch of demeanour, once Tim spoke the boy’s name. His stance relaxed and loosened, even as he shucked off his damp robe and mask and trudged into the bathroom in his black body armour. 

Tim wondered if he used to do that, whenever he himself had entered his room and was able to drop Alvin and just be Tim.

By the time the water had stopped running, Tim had left some old clothes of his out for Damian to find. He deliberated a short moment before placing a hoodie next to the plain shirt and sweatpants, then turned his back to the door to give his brother a semblance of privacy.

“These are yours?” Damian asked, and Tim took that as his cue to turn back around. The clothes fit Damian quite well - they still sagged slightly around his smaller frame, but he would grow into them just fine. The hoodie was oversized as well, but in the comfortable way that bundled the wearer up in warmth.

“I outgrew them a while ago,” Tim shrugged, brushing his hand through Damian’s still-damp hair, “Do they fit alright?”

“Decently enough,” Damian grunted, leaning slightly away from his hand. Not so much that Tim’s hand was dislodged, though. “They are… comfortable. Is the jacket from Grayson? It has a Nightwing symbol.”

The symbol was cracked up in the way that old and worn clothing designs were, the blue faded, but it was still recognisable to those who knew what to look for. 

“Yeah,” Tim smiled, “It was the first Nightwing merch he found, back in the early days of the Titans. His teammates bought it as a gag gift for him, and he wore it around the tower. He left it in my room, once this tower was built.”

Damian nodded quietly, tracing the vague shape of the blue insignia. He hesitated, a brief second, but it was obvious to Tim.

“Can I sleep here?” Damian asked, casting green eyes about the room. A spare hoodie was slung over his chair, the desk littered with notebooks and scrapped doodles. The bed sheets were wrinkled, the blanket hanging off one side. There was a dismantled bird-a-rang on the bedside table.

Tim read Damian’s relaxed posture, the body language that screamed comfort and relief and _safe_ , and understood. Tim’s room was lived in - it felt as homely and cozy as his room in the Manor, as messy and as inhabited as home.

Damian’s room was still unpersonalised, still just a room. Not his room. Not yet.

Tim nodded, and gestured towards his bed, “You can lie down, first. I need to do some things, and then I’ll join you.”

Damian huffed at that; narrowed his eyes in a way that Tim had learnt meant concern. Tim smiled reassuringly, “I’ll sleep, I promise. I left my laptop in the main room - I just have to wrap up my work, and then I’ll turn in.”

“You better,” Damian grouched, crawling onto the bed and burrowing into the blanket mess, “I’ll come look for you if you don’t return, appearances be damned. Your health is important to us, Drake.”

“I know,” Tim chuckled, and slipped out of the room.

Tim retrieved his laptop and checked in briefly on Kon and his brother. Jon was already asleep, and Kon was watching something on his phone, earphones plugged in. He pulled one out when Tim popped his head into the room.

“Is David in your room?” Kon whispered, eyes darting towards Jon. He remained asleep, apparently indifferent to their murmured conversation. Tim nodded his head. “I lent him some of my clothes,” he whispered back, “He had nothing to change into, except for a clean set of body armour.”

Kon cringed at that. “Does he not own any clothes?” he gaped, horrified and concerned all at once. Tim shook his head, “He said he hasn’t gotten around to moving his things in. I think he’s learned his lesson, though. Until then, I have a lot of shirts I’ve outgrown.”

Tim bid his friend goodnight and retreated back to his room. Damian was not asleep yet, but he did look at ease. He only blinked his eyes open once to affirm that it was Tim who had entered before he shut his eyes once more.

Tim positioned himself on the bed, opened his laptop, and started typing. By the time he had finished, Damian’s breath had evened out.

Tim stifled his yawn, kept away his laptop and slid down until he was lying beside Damian. He hesitated a moment, before resting a hand on Damian’s arm. The sleeping boy curled closer instinctively, and Tim smiled.

“Goodnight, Baby Bat,” Tim whispered, and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been in a Christmas mood since Halloween ended XD it might have been because of a new Christmas album from a band I like, but well, hehe
> 
> Buckle-up guys, next fic’s gonna be an introduction and re-introduction ;)


End file.
